Hermione Granger

A/N: Just a reminder, new chapter here officially means new chapter over on the P atreon now, where my patrons are voting on the future direction of the story!

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Time stretches every onward from that fateful day where Hermione missed her chance. Her and Harry have never felt further apart, and it hurts more than she cares to admit. But it's just as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Harry doesn't treat her colder or anything like that. He treats her as a teacher should teach one of their best students.

It's almost like their Fifth Year, with the DA, all over again. Back then, Harry had ended up in charge of training 'Dumbledore's Army' when Hermione had pushed him to do so. Merlin, that had been such a stupid name, and one that had caused so much more trouble than it was worth. Frankly, Hermione wished she'd been a little wiser back then, but even if it'd only been a few years ago, the young witch liked to think she'd done a lot of growing up since.

Fuck though, she was so hot for teacher. She just… she didn't know how to show it, just like she hadn't known how to show it back then. Honestly, she thought Harry might have gotten a clue when she literally browbeat him into teaching them Defense Against the Dark Arts back in their Fifth Year. After all, as smart and capable as he was, as much as his training in the Triwizard Tournament had put him a little above the rest of them, the fact of the manner was, at the time Harry hadn't been that much more knowledgeable in magic then any of his classmates.

Hermione could have taught the lot of them just as well as Harry, or so she liked to think. She could have trained them up, showed them plenty of spells, and worked them through the things they would need to be able to sit and pass their DADA OWL later that year. However, what she couldn't do was lead them. She wasn't a leader; she never had been.

Harry, on the other hand, had always had the leadership quality that Hermione was lacking. It was part of what had drawn the brunette bookworm to him so early on. From the troll attack in their First Year on, Hermione had seen what sort of leader Harry was and she'd… she'd longed for it. Longed for him.

Now, he wasn't just the leader that Hermione had always known he was, he was a Hogwarts Professor. And put simply, Hermione Granger was VERY hot for teacher. That didn't mean she was going to go off half-cocked, however. Harry might have accepted Daphne's proposal, and he might have invited Hermione along to join the fun that night, but no subsequent invitations had manifested themselves.

More than that, in her heart of hearts Hermione HAD to believe that there was nothing more than a meaningless fling going on between Harry and Daphne Greengrass. He was her Professor, and she was the unruly student who had been conspiring to use him. Obviously, any sex that the two of them had would be just that, sex.

Equally obviously, Hermione wanted more than just sex. She wanted more from Harry then just physical intimacy, even if she had very carefully saved her virginity, her first time, for the young man who was now her DADA Professor. Hermione wanted a relationship with Harry, one that finally allowed her to express all of her pent-up feelings towards the wizard after all these years.

Luckily, there was one silver lining to her regretful rejection that night. Namely, Hermione found herself with all the time in the world to plan and prepare for things to be… just perfect. She wasn't going to mess this up, not a second time, and so she wanted to make sure that she treads carefully, that everything was done right this go around.

It took weeks, months even, but that was okay, because Hermione had targeted a very specific day for the moment when she would strike. October Thirty-First. Halloween Night. It was a… weighted night in many ways for both of them. For Harry, it was the night his parents were killed by Lord Voldemort, and the night that the Dark Lord tried to kill him as well and failed utterly, his Killing Curse backfiring on him and giving them over a decade of peace.

For Hermione, it was the night she very nearly died as well, her first Halloween at Hogwarts resulting in a troll attack that had almost cost her life. It would have too, if not for Harry and Ron. In their later Hogwarts Years, Halloween would also be the night on which such events of Nearly Headless Nick's Five Hundredth Death Day Party took place, as well as the night that Sirius Black tried to gain access to Gryffindor Tower to, as they eventually found out, kill Peter Pettigrew. Finally, it was the night in their Fourth Year when the Goblet of Fire spat out the names of the Triwizard Champions… including Harry's as well.

All in all, Halloween Night was more bad than good for the two of them. Which was precisely why Hermione thought it to be the perfect night to… try and turn things around, so to speak. Certainly, she anticipated that it was a night Harry would rather not spend in the Great Hall, feasting with the rest of Hogwarts Castle. And if he wasn't going to be at the Halloween Feast, then Hermione didn't want to be either.

Instead, butterflies in her stomach, the young witch nervously but determinedly sends out a letter to Harry a week before, cordially inviting him to come and dine with her in her private quarters the night of Halloween. And, to her distinct pleasure, Harry had replied with acceptance, leaving her to plan out the perfect meal… and what would come after. It had to all be perfect. It had to be amazing. Hermione couldn't abide by failure, not now…

She was going to knock Harry's socks off. And then hopefully, he'd do the same to her.

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After their initial detention and Hermione's departure, he honestly hadn't been sure what to do about his friend. Hermione wasn't… distant or cold to him per say, but it had definitely felt like there was a gulf between them that hadn't been there before.

Of course, Harry was well aware that that was entirely his own fault as well. He was the one who hadn't contacted Hermione to let her know about his position as DADA Professor before term started. He was also the one who had gone on to proposition her for a threesome with Daphne Greengrass of all people. Frankly, if she hadn't wanted anything to do with him, he would have understood.

Instead, Hermione had seemed patently uncertain, but more determined than ever to be close to him. To be fair, she was one of his best students, as he'd known she would be. It gave Harry plenty of excuses to spend one on one time with her in class, going over what she'd achieved ahead of everyone else and giving her some extra credit work to keep her busy.

Harry had decided that, given a lot of the Seventh Years were actually Eighth Years this go around, retaking their Seventh Year at the behest of the Ministry, that he would go ahead and try to train them all in silent casting. And once they were passable at that, he intended to move on to wandless magic.

Now, wandless magic wasn't easy. Harry himself was only really passable at it, and as he'd decided on his lesson plan, he'd also scheduled more training for himself so that by the time his students moved on from silent casting to wandless casting, he would be an expert at the latter and more than capable of teaching them all.

Of course, Hermione was the first to pick up silent casting, being the genius she was. They weren't lying when they called her the smartest witch of their generation, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed and amazed by her progress. He just had to figure out what to do with her, because while the rest of the class was coming along at the pace he'd expected and planned for, Hermione was beginning to push to the point where he might not have anything to teach her. Harry didn't like that, as much as it left him feeling a little proud.

Regardless, all of this was to say, when Hermione had sent him an invitation a week before Halloween to dine with her for the evening instead of in the Great Hall, Harry had gratefully accepted. Halloween was not his favorite night of the year by a long shot, both because it was the night his parents died, and because he felt like he'd barely been able to go a year or two without something shitty happening to him at Halloween time during his years at Hogwarts.

He had already convinced the Headmistress to let him beg off from the feast, and with great understanding, Andromeda had told him he didn't have to show up, not even for a moment. He'd thanked her… and then received the letter from Hermione and happily RSVP'D.

Now here he was, knocking on the door to the Head Girl's rooms. He was honestly feeling a little nervous, but at the same time, happy to try and mend bridges, just a little. He didn't want the gulf between him and Hermione to exist forever. If possible, he wanted them to be able to go back to being friends again…

The door opens, and Hermione stands on the other side in a cute robe. With her hair up in a ponytail, she graces him with a smile and steps aside.

"Come on in, Professor!"

As he walks in, Harry can't help but blink at Hermione's quarters. They're all done up in a celebration theme of sorts. The only thing missing is a 'Happy Birthday' banner, somewhere. When he gives her a look, the brunette blushes a little.

"I thought, since we didn't get to celebrate your birthday this summer together… we'd do it now. I-If that's not too presumptuous."

Chuckling, Harry shakes his head.

"No, Hermione. It's perfect."

Beaming, his best friend leads him further in. Soon enough, they're eating dinner and while things start out a little wooden and tense between them, soon enough they're both relaxing into their old dynamic. Of course, Hermione continues to insist on calling Harry 'Professor', and he's honestly not willing to call her out on it. If it works for her, who is he to judge? And besides, having his bookworm best friend calling him Professor… it kind of does something for him, oddly enough?

Maybe it does something for her as well. Or maybe Harry should stop thinking about this in terms of sex. It's all thanks to the way his life has turned on its head, more than anything. First Andromeda had convinced him to take the post at Hogwarts via sexual favors, then Tonks had tried to seduce him only to get replaced by her mother. And then Daphne and all of that, with him fucking the Greengrass witch on the weekly ever since that first detention.

He had sex on the mind, there was no denying it. And perhaps that was to be expected, given he was a growing young man with a healthy libido, but he was also supposed to be a person of authority now, he was supposed to be a Hogwarts Professor with all the expectations of decorum and propriety that came with. Maybe if the new Hogwarts Headmistress acted with a bit more decorum and propriety herself, Harry wouldn't have fallen into the deep end so quickly.

Still, as the meal comes to a close, Harry gives Hermione a broad smile.

"Thank you, Hermione. This was a great idea all around. Turning the night into one of celebration instead of sorrow… I really appreciate this."

Hermione lights up, beaming for a moment before she gets a somewhat furtive look in her eye. Suddenly, she's taking him by the hand and pulling him out of his seat.

"We're not done quite yet, Professor. I still have your birthday present to give you."

Harry is a little embarrassed that his gaze instantly goes to Hermione's ass, and that his first instinct is that she might be insinuating sex. Really, he needs to get his mind out of the gutter already! And yet… Hermione leads him into her bedroom, and he doesn't see any gift wrapping or obvious presents n sight. Tugging him along, she stops in the middle of the room and turns to face him, biting her lower lip and blushing profusely.

And then, as if she needs to go through with it now or she never will, Hermione takes her wand and taps her robes. Harry watches as they unravel right before his eyes, vanishing in moments. So too does the tie in her hair vanish, her ponytail falling apart as her gorgeous chest-length hair cascades over her now-bared shoulders.

By the time the magic has run its course, Hermione is standing before him in a certain… state. Her robes are gone, and all that the young woman is wearing is thigh-high stockings in Gryffindor colors… and a bright red comically large ribbon. The ribbon wraps around her in two ways, wrapping around her chest… and wrapping downwards, sliding up between her legs.

The bow of the ribbon is in the middle of the chest, looking so very tantalizing in Harry's humble opinion as she stands there in front of him, a look of desire and lust on her face, her free hand coming up to play with her hair as if she doesn't know what to do with it, while her other hand loosely holds her wand, the implement that she'd used to expose herself to him in the first place.

"W-Well, Professor? What… w-what do you think?"

She sounds nervous, but also hopelessly turned on. Harry can't begrudge her either of those feelings, he's experiencing much the same thing. Hermione looks imminently fuckable as she is now, and given she's offering herself up to him as a birthday present, the whole situation is insanely, indescribably hot. So, Harry answers truthfully.

"I think… I think you look beautiful, Hermione. Absolutely perfect."

She beams again at that, but this time her beaming smile takes on a certain extra quality to it, given her state of undress. Harry's cock twitches in his pants, and he licks his lips as he considers her for a moment.

"You can unwrap your present at any time, Professor~"

Oh, he was definitely going to do that. He just… he needed to decide how he was going to approach this. He had options, after all. Hermione's insistence on calling him by his job title instead of by name might have been an indication that she wanted to engage in teacher-student play. But did he want to do that? Or did he want this to just be the two of them, two best friends expanding their relationship beyond what he'd ever thought could happen? Or, even, did he want to treat her as he had Daphne, dominating her and further exploring his new controlling tendencies?

Mouth dry, eyes slipping up and down Hermione's body, Harry considers just what he's going to do… and then steps forward, making his move.

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